


rescue (You)

by ferer56



Series: Rescue (Us) [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/F, Flushed Romance | Matesprits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:39:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6040308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferer56/pseuds/ferer56
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aboard a meteor hurtling through Paradox Space, Rose Lalonde attempts to rescue her matesprit from the deadliest foe they've ever faced: kismessitude. Of course, contending as Rose is with an all-consuming alcoholism, is she even capable of rescuing herself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	rescue (You)

You awoke screaming. It only took you a second to register the name erupting from somewhere deep inside, undoubtedly dredged from the recurring nightmare that had become your closest companion as of late. You bit down, harder than you needed to, strangling your voice at this early hour. Yet not by any means keeping his ghost from haunting your mind.

Your arm shot out jerkily, pawing frantically for your drink. And—shit. You heard the familiar tinkle of broken glass as your salvation seeped into the fibers of your carpet. You swore under your breath, hazy with the remnants of last night’s half-forgotten bender. You didn’t have the grist to support your textiles alcohol problem; it was expensive enough maintaining your own. Of course it never listened, lousy thing. You really hated one-sided conversations, alhough lately such petty concerns had fallen far below your list of priorities. It was hard enough as it was simply going through the motions.

You stumbled out of bed, blankets clinging awkwardly to your profusely sweating limbs. You kicked the disgusting hanger-ons off, nearly tripping into your dresser in the process. Steadying yourself with wobbling limbs, you took a good long look at yourself in the mirror. You snorted, mirth wrapping its slimy tendrils around your bones.

Oh you did not want to think like that. Hell, you didn’t want to think period. Your mind was abuzz with unwelcome activity, groggily stirring awake even as a million needles took turns jamming themselves into your every inch of grey matter.

All in all a small price to pay, really.

You adjusted your hairband, attempting to smooth out the thin wisps of hair going haywire on your scalp. After thirty seconds you gave up: good enough! You half-contemplated at least giving your smudging eye-liner a once over, but quickly decided against it. It’s not like you were expecting to entertain. And quite frankly, anyone that desperate for your company would just have to deal.

After all, you were in a hurry.

Having cleaned up from the night before, you flit over to your liquor cabinet. You pulled open the fragile glass doors, freeing the confined soporifics from their prison. You stared with ebullition at the bounty on display, heart sinking like an anchor into your chest. That didn’t stop you though, it never had before. Delicate fingers wove deftly amongst the many bottles on display, striving to find that perfect mixture which would steal away your pain like a particularly gallant rouge.

You had to settle, as always.

You uncorked the bourbon, allowing its aroma to waft soothingly into your nostrils. You shut the door with your shoulder, opening the drawer beneath to grasp the tumbler amongst the mess of assorted glassware. With a demons speed you raced over to your desk, slamming the glass onto the table along with your bourbon. You watched with rapturous delight as the golden liquid poured smoothly into the glass, lips watering as promises of amnesia grew more and more impetuous with every ounce you spilled.

You couldn’t wait any longer, the fog clearing from your mind. You had to call it back, regardless of the cost. You tempered your gag reflex, bringing the devils drink flush against your lips.  

A loud bang knocked you from your reverie, as well as the whiskey from your hand. You didn’t even have the energy to be upset: just your rotten luck. You shot a side-long glance towards your door, impossibly far away. You suddenly felt nauseous as your door rattled yet again, hinges squeaking under the withering assault. You took a moment to compose yourself, stamping down your emerging hangover to the best of your ability. With a deep sigh, you underwent the long perilous journey, flinging open the door with an exaggerated smile pulling at your lips.

“May I—“

“I don’t have time for your bullshit right now Rose; I’m getting quite enough of it everywhere else.” Your smile fell flatter than John’s pulse after—

_Not the time, not the time, not the time._

You focused instead on the frizzled mop of hair, the two sharpened sticks of candy-corn jutting out awkwardly from the woman’s scalp. She was staring up at you enigmatically, expression hidden behind gaudy red shades. “What do you want?” You spat, hiding your loathing behind the marble you had been chiseled from.    

“I need to show you something. Now.” And with not even a word of warning she was off, cane clattering in the distance, not even bothering to check to see if you were following her. Or, however it was she knew things were happening around her. You were tempted to slam the door, tempted to crawl back to your liquor, pleading for forgiveness. Yet instead you clutched your nightgown closer to your waist and followed wordlessly. Annoying as she may have been, she really only ever interacted you when it was absolutely necessary.

That, and something about her demeanor sent goosebumps down your spine. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something just felt… wrong. And with every step you took with your silent companion deeper into the bowels of the complex, the wronger you felt. It was scrambling towards a fever pitch when she stopped unexpectedly. “A word of friendly advice: don’t fly off the handle, you’ll only upset her.” With that cryptic comment, which did very little to assuage your fears, Terezi’s claws grasped for the handle of the unremarkable door before you. She pushed it open slowly, as if teasing your expectations.

Your heart stopped, disbelieving eyes taking in the scene before you. There, naked shoulders barely hidden under a slowly rising and falling blanket, lay Vriska Serket. You nearly shoved the Libra to the ground in your mad dash to your girlfriend’s side as you completely ignored her earlier advice. You very nearly tripped over the various broken furniture, tattered bits of clothing, and assorted debris scattered all across the dingy, poorly lit room. Blood was splayed in a horrific patchwork across nearly every conceivable surface, hideous grimacing ‘smileys’ staring at you luridly as you pumped your long waif-like legs harder to bridge the distance. You nearly crashed into her, skidding to a halt on knees burning with friction against the ruined carpeting. She didn’t seem to notice your presence at first, and this close you could tell that she was shivering despite the heavy blankets swaddled around her like a cocoon. You took her into your arms. She trembled at your touch, broken claws caked with blue and purple feebly attempting to push you away.

“I—I’m not… not a gog-damn wriggler!” She cried out, voice hoarse and straining. That only encouraged you to cosset her harder. Somehow you resisted saying every sweetly saccharine condescending nothing that rushed unbidden like a tidal wave to the forefront of your mind, yet that left you with pitifully little of substance flopping about on the shores of your psyche. If only your brain would work right, if only—

You took a deep, shaky breath, focusing despite the swirling haze befuddling your mind, the throbbing pain dully pounding in your head.

“Of course not, Vriska. You know I have only the highest respect for you.” You stated clinically, or as clinically as your admittedly tremulous voice would allow. You almost didn’t notice the shutting of a door behind you. You were too enamored with the way her every muscle seemed to relax at once upon hearing your voice, head slowly turning to face you from amidst the myriad sheets.

It took all of your willpower to maintain an even-keel. Claw marks ran deep across her face, long blue lines that were already blotching with coagulating blood. What looked like the beginnings of a dreadful scar had been dug across her forehead. Her left eye was nearly eclipsed by a hideous bulging bruise, though that did little to dampen the fire emanating from her gaze which had thawed your icy heart… Faint traces of what you imagined to be tears still stained her face. You had enough decorum to pretend you didn’t notice. However, it was harder to ignore the damage to her horns, which were chipped and cracked in a thousand different places. She noticed you staring, and seemed to withdraw into the blankets like a hermit crab. You bit your lip: her façade cracking before your very eyes under the weakest of blows. You had to coax her out, before her fear of vulnerability completely slammed shut the door you were trying so desperately to keep open.

“You have endured a lot, haven’t you? Moreso than I could ever take.“ You started, the lies far easier to stomach when you weren’t trying to feed them to yourself, comforting her wounded ego first and foremost.

She grinned sheepishly, faint color blooming in her cheeks. “Y-you wouldn’t be- believe the blows I could burden.” She started hesitatingly, voice picking up confidence as she spoke about her favorite topic: herself. “The wounds I’ve carried with me since I was but a wriggler in the brooding caverns. Adversity has been etched into my very bo-bones since my hatching. But despite its best efforts, this world can’t break me.” She spat out the final sentence, as if disgusted with the taste of it swishing around between her lips.

“I’m shocked you are still conscious, you’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure what a “pig” is, but I had my arm blown off once so something like this _really_ isn’t anything at all.” She stated smugly, though with the faintest trace of desperation underscoring her every word. Yet that was to be expected given the severity of the lies pouring out from her like the sweetest wine. But you just had to build her up, and—

“I-isn’t anything at all.” She repeated surprisingly demurely, blind-siding you out of your reverie. Your attentions quickly pivoted once again to her. “I-isn’t—“

Your eyes widened as realization struck you full force like a wallop from the mythical Warhammer of Zillyhoo. You acted quickly, pulling her head up against your bosom, streaking quivering fingers through her hair in what you hoped were soothing gestures. You took careful steps not to look at her directly, fearing the effect any additional staring might have on her. She didn’t seem to notice, burying her face into your chest. Her horn cut across your cheek, though of course such dull pains meant little to you now. She trembled against you, body shaking like a leaf in the full grasp of bitter autumn winds. Your free arm snaked around her back, as cold damp streaks of blue unable to resist the siren’s call of gravity fell slowly down your gown. The shivering coolness of her tears contrasted uncomfortably with the hot ragged breath levying on your collarbone.

You wish you could think of something, anything to say to stem the tide. After all wasn’t that your forte? Psychology was something you were good at, right? Why was it that when others needed you, you were you so completely useless? You were going to fail her, like you’d failed your mother and John before her. Like you’d failed everyone you ever cared about. You couldn’t handle the crushing pressure weighing down upon you, her every gut-wrenching sob dragging razor sharp nails of guilt down the chalkboard of your mind. Flames shot through your chest, erupting from your gut as you gasped desperately for air like a fish out of water. No, now wasn’t the time for this. You tried to breathe through your nostrils, every breath sending fresh shockwaves of white-hot electricity crackling through your chest.

Suddenly Vriska’s eyes were upon you, fading tears smudging against her many wounds. She lifted her head, bringing her lips mere inches away from yours, appraising you with obvious concern. You almost didn’t notice her fingers ghost across your back, feather-light touches that surprised you considering their source. “Shoosh.” She whispered, every letter pattering against you with the softness of a summer drizzle. You lolled forward against her chest, heart throbbing painfully in your chest. “Shoooooooosh,” she repeated yet again, drawling out the syllables whilst pulling you into her protective embrace.

The ache dulled further with her every repetition, the ethereal rains her words summoned smothering the wildfire burning within your chest. After a short time, only pitiful embers remained. And then silence. You listened for the pleasant lilting of her heartbeat, arms loosely draped around her shoulders like the slightly oversized jackets which were her preference. Your fingers traced idly along her many scars, proof of her resilience woven into her very skin. God how long had it been since you had just… held her? Weeks? Months? Time had really lost all relevance to you, your life having become one long alcoholic stupor.

You missed this. You missed her. You craned your neck to look upon your heroine. Her stony expression looked carved from the finest granite, sharply contrasting with the gentleness of her continuing caresses. Envy tugged upon your heart strings. She was so strong, weathering her own demons without complaint as well as taking on your own. She didn’t run from her problems but confronted them head on. She wasn’t a coward, unlike you. Your bony knuckles tensed, chafing against her collarbone. You didn’t deserve her, and you knew it. And one day she’d realize that and leave. And you would be left alone with the fetid whispers of dying eldritch gods rotting in your mind.

Your face burrowed deeper against her clavicle, trying to pull as much of her against you as possible, terrified you’d awaken once more alone. The silence between you both had become oppressive, every unspoken word reinforcing your worst fears and anxieties. Your heart thumped painfully in your chest, panic threatening to overwhelm you yet again. You had to break the silence, before you fell victim once again. You just had to think of something, anything to say.

“I think… were both really fucked up.”

She smiled, warmth tugging at her lips. “Is that your professional diagnosis, Lalonde?”

A wry grin blossomed on your face. “I don’t think I’d go as far as to say professional…”

“Then what would you say?”

The wheels creaked ever so slowly in your mind. “I… got nothing. Ask me again when I’m drunk, this hangover is killing me.”

She snorted with laughter, eyes twinkling with a vivacity that was almost unnerving. “Gog our mutually self-destructive spirals would be almost _adorable_ if they weren’t...” She trailed off, tone dropping off precipitously. Your fingers scrambled for her own. You squeezed, her rough and calloused skin digging into your fleshy emaciated palms.

“I know...”

Your chest rose as she sharply in-took a breath. “We need to talk Rose.”

Your tongue lumped up against the roof of your mouth. You didn’t want to talk about this. That had been the whole point, the reason you’d found solace in the bottle. You just wanted to bury your pain and anguish so deep within your mind that not even you could dredge it up again. You wanted to be safe from the failures gnawing at your soul, the names seared into your brain. You-

“I hate him Rose, more than you couid ever possibly imagine.” She started, dragging you kicking and screaming back into the cold, uncaring hands of the real. “The merest whiff of his scent sends me into a blinding rage. I want to wipe off that stupid grin always plastered to his face, rip him limb from bloody limb, and avenge my fallen moirail.” Her claws pierce your knuckles, warm trickles of blood oozing lazily down your wrist. “Yet I know I’ll never kill him. He knows that I won’t either, but he’s wrong about the reason. It isn’t because I promised you I would be a better person, it’s because-“ Her brow furrowed, knit closely like a pair of lovers “because I’m afraid of losing the one thing I’ve ever truly hated.” She tilts her chin to look at you, eyes searching into your own as if she’s looking for some spark of understanding somewhere deep within your purple irises. Yet you have nothing to give, too stunned by her revelations to muster even a snarky retort. She sighs, giving up.

“I don’t expect you to understand, Rose. But I do want you to know. Because you are my matesprit and-“ Her voice cracked, lips moving uselessly. She sunk her fangs into the curve of her lip, tension apparent in her jaw and around her eyes. “and… there should be no secrets between us.”

She sighed loudly, breathing in deeply through her flaring nostrils. “I’m not the person you want me to be, Rose. I’ll never be able to escape the impulses which define me. I lied to you because I wanted you to like me. I was afraid of scaring you away by revealing who I was. Yet now I realize I should have been honest with you then. I set the tone for our relationship. And so, over time we drifted, because we had a fakey fake connection based on lies and bluster.”

She paused, drawing in a deep shuddering breath.

“I want something real Rose. And that means opening myself up to the possibility that you might hurt me in a way that I can’t handle. And I… I want to take that risk. Because I need someone to be my confidante, someone I can allow myself to be _vulnerable_ around. I’m so flushed for you it hurts. But you have to be red for _me_ , and not this _mask_ I wear.”

You were silent. It was a lot to take in. Your feelings were difficult to pin down especially through the dull throbbing pain of your worsening headache. You broke your embrace, standing up, eyes never wavering from her own. “Do you regret killing Tavros?”

“Insofar as it was a distraction preventing me from saving my moirail.”

“So everything you said about feeling badly, the guilt writhing in your soul?” She didn’t answer you directly, merely looking away. “I can’t say I’m surprised.” She gulped nervously, absolutely withering beneath your piercing gaze.

“Do you see me as a person Vriska, or as merely a tool for you to wield so you can feel better about yourself?”

“A person Rose! Why would I have taken the risk of telling you the truth otherwise?”

“Yes, but what you want is a confidante. On some level you must have been aware that I did not trust you, and so to force my hand you revealed to me a truth about yourself in the hopes I would reciprocate so we could become closer as a couple. That does not necessarily mean you see me as anything more than a means rather than an as end unto myself.” Your fingers ran ragged through your hair, trying to soothe the worsening buzzing in your brain. “You use people Vriska. You feed off them because you are a narcissist with cripplingly low self-esteem. You need others to build you up because you don’t believe the lies you tell about yourself. How can I trust you not to-“

She leapt to her feet with the alacrity of a serpent’s strike, clocking you in the jaw. Pain blossomed like a flower, writhing through your nerves. You staggered backward trying to retain your balance. Yet she was upon you, grasping your wrists within her iron-talons, hissing at you as she pulled you to the floor. You struggled underneath her weight, but she had you pinned. “I’m not an idiot Rose. I see what you’re doing here. You’re trying to hide your own insecurities behind psycho-babble BULLSHIT!” Your skin burnt beneath her smoldering glare, one you had no difficulty reciprocating.

“Th-that is a shameful accusation,” you snarled, patience running thin. “My concerns are well-founded, especially given the fact you are a sociopath who just _assaulted_ me!”

“Shut up! I’m not letting you run circles around me just because you’re smarter than me!” Spittle was flying in your face, disgusting you.

“What the fuck are you talking about!”

“You know damn well!” She seethed. “You always do this. Whenever I try to get you to open up even a little, you snap shut on me like that ridiculously oversized tome you insist on carrying around with you everywhere. I’m fucking sick of it Rose!”

“Whatever, get off me!”

“Not until you open up to me!”

“I have nothing to say to you, _Vriska_.” You snarled, pursing your lips.

“Why is this so hard for you? Why won’t you just trust me?” You didn’t respond, looking past her at the drying blood oozing steadily down the walls. You couldn’t help but wince as her claws burrowed into your wrists. “I told you the truth! Why won’t you do the same?”

Her childishness made your blood boil. Everything had to be all her, all the time. If she could get over something, then she just expected everyone else to do the same. She didn’t give a shit about you, just what you could do for her. She’d abandon you at the drop of a needle.

“Because that’s not how people work you idiot! You can’t just ‘press A’ and expect me to jump, I’m not some-- some game you can ‘win’! I’m a human being, with emotions and feelings completely separate from yours. And speaking of my ‘insecurities’, it looks like they were well-founded after all weren’t they? Trying to manipulate me into giving you what you wanted? That’s low Vriska. And I don’t have time for low.” You spat, voice acrid with righteous indignation.

She was quiet for a moment, expression inscrutable. “…What are you saying?”

Your heart fell further into your chest, too far for you to pull it back. “I’m breaking up with you.”

Suddenly your hands were free, the weight pressing against your stomach like an anvil lifted. She was staggering backwards, like you had just thrown a blow into her gut. Of course, you had done worse.

“W-what?” She responded slowly, voice low and wavering.

“You heard me Vriska. We are through.” Every word was like acid bubbling through your teeth. You did not allow that to stop you. You stood up, brushing down your gown. Your icy glare stayed on her for a few moments before shifting towards the door, veins freezing as you took your leave. Your fingertips brushed the door-knob, promises of liquor and forgetfulness just on the horizon.

“P-please don’t go,” a pathetic voice whined out. “I’m sorry…” You grit your teeth, just another manipulation. Your head swam, your hangover worsening. You turned to face her, prepared to let her have it.

Except Vriska wasn’t there.

But John and your mother were.

Your back brushed against the door, fingers clawing for the knob. Yet you couldn’t find it. You were panicking, hurling your weight against the door trying desperately to break it down. Your body wouldn’t stop trembling as their cold and thirsty eyes drank in the guilt seeping from your pores. You heard their whispers crawling in your brain, dissonant voices pleading for help which would not come. You pivoted on your heel, smashing your fists against the door, striving to break the unyielding wood and claw your way to freedom. You felt an icy hand grip your shoulder, as if death itself had lain there. Your head turned slowly, taking in first the frigid blueness of the fingers sinking into your flesh. Blank eyes stared at you, an infinite expanse of white threatening to swallow you whole. A mouth opened inhumanly wide, rotting teeth grimacing upon your visage as-

Your eyelids fluttered open, mouth agape as your words came hurtling out in a hysterical nonsensical slurry. You felt fingers brush against your cheek, a low voice cooing in your ear. It didn’t take much longer for you to realize your ex-girlfriend was cradling you in her arms. You should have been upset about that, should have fought her off for daring to touch you so intimately following your recent breakup.

Instead you held her tightly, fingers digging into her ribs as you bawled much like that little girl so long ago who had accidentally spilled milk all over her favorite book. She merely clutched you tighter, fingers thrumming smoothly through your hair. You were glad for the buzzing in your brain, the white noise like tv static scrambling your thoughts. Faces and images flashed within your mind, so hazy, indistinct and warped you couldn’t connect them to anyone you knew. That helped, a lot more than you liked to admit given the severity of your drinking problem. Yet the amorphous haze of death set a pallor over your thoughts, one that made it difficult to focus on anything but the fact that one day the skin you were now grasping would turn cold and clammy. You’d regret, as you always had, the choices that you made, and realize you should have-

“I’m sorry Vriska.” You started, for the first time strangling the cycle of regret in the full blush of its infancy. Her muscles tensed like deer staring at the forlorn lights that would come to be their end.

“For what? I’m the one who hurt you.”

“I… overreacted. I tried to push you away before you could get close, afraid that you might pluck my defenseless wings as callously a child does a dragonfly if I got near.” She gulped nervously, burying your face into her neck. “But you’re right. If we want this to be real, we have to put the work into it to make it so. And while I may be hesitant and scared, I… don’t want you to go. I think together maybe we can, if not solve our various problems, at least burden them more effectively.”

You winced as sharpened claws dug into your back. “He… uses Kanaya like a blade, stabbing her name deep into my mind, reminding me with his every putrid breath of my role in her demise. He’s shown me what a lie my promise was Rose, the one I made to you. I’m not a good person, and I can never hope to be one. The only difference between that clown and I is body count, and right now I’m ahead… I’ll always be ahead, because I really am the monster everyone thought I was.”

You didn’t respond, this a minefield you were as of yet unprepared to step into. Yet her answer was illuminating, and you nearly sighed with relief. The pieces were falling together, Gamzee’s role now clear. The Capricorn had torn her down, fucked with her head so badly she had been twisted into thinking she was the monster she expected herself to be. You just had to pick up the pieces and rebuild, allow her a chance to hear something other than that demented voice which you were certain even now rang accusingly within her ears.

You had to trust there was more to her than the grim truth she had just regurgitated.

You leaned up and kissed her softly on the lips, her fangs digging gingerly into your skin. She leaned into your warmth, purring slightly, body shuddering beneath you. Breaking the kiss, you ran your fingers through her unkempt hair, wallowing in the look she was giving you. “Miss Serket, quite frankly, I’ve missed your company. I would like to borrow you if it all possible for a few days of rather inappropriate, possibly rambunctious snuggling. Just you and me. No clowns and-“ You hesitated, words trapped behind your disobeying teeth. She quirked an eyebrow, waiting patiently. “No alcohol.” You finished, the words stumbling out of your reach before you could stuff them back into your maw.

She stared at you curiously, and you could almost see the gears turning in her head. “Let me get a few things first. Some clothes would be nice. After all I would hate to have to share my beauty with those undeserving.” You smiled, genuinely for the first time in ages. Standing up you grasped her hand, and she rose, tugging the blanket around her shoulders like a cloak. You followed close behind her, taking one last look at the graffiti before slamming the door on that chapter in her life, hopefully for good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vriska peered at herself in the mirror, her hideousness repulsing her.

She knew she’d never change, even before she’d sunken her talons into Rose’s mind.

She hoped the guilt would fade away.

It didn’t.


End file.
